


fragments of the celestials

by poisonedpatchoulis (dreadfulbeauties)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Multi, Queer Characters, and everything in between, personified zodiac signs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:08:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadfulbeauties/pseuds/poisonedpatchoulis
Summary: In a far-off world, the celestials may be more human than we think them to be.
Relationships: Original Character(s) & Original Character(s), Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	fragments of the celestials

Was it so long ago that Nathain was small enough to curl up on his lap, eyes going wide as Nero read a bedtime story aloud to him? 

_I only wished to keep you safe._

Nero remembers that while he had been weaker, he had been _happier_. Those were the nights, where Nathain would stand wide-eyed at the edge of his bedroom, violet eyes wide. He’d tearfully explain to Nero that he was scared of the monsters that lurked in his closet. So Nero would scoop him up in his arms ( _he’s so small, yet his heartbeat is so loud_ ) and prepare them both milk with honey and a pinch of spice, letting Nathain curl up with him as he read out loud stories.

Now, as he stands before his own son — both of them bloodied and injured, the wounds pulsing on his skin, each step is a chore and he can’t _breathe_ — he wonders if that had even happened. Now it seems too good to be true.

_You were my son._

Nero knows what must be done. Even though there’s a voice in his mind screaming, pounding fists at the inside head pleading that there must be another way, that this is not how things are supposed to be, this shouldn’t be real, surely it should end as happily as it did in all the stories, the book will shu and Nathain will be tired but happy and cling to him and tell his father just how much he loves him—

_But fairytales aren’t the same as reality, are they?_

Conroy’s bleeding out on the ground. He’s seen too much red today, never wants to see it again.

_I wish it had never come to this._

He numbs himself as he aims the knife at Nathain’s throat.

_I’m sorry, Nathain._

As he watches his own son close his eyes for the last time beneath the tree (his shroud, he shouldn’t have to be dead before his own _father_ dies), the voice screaming in his mind goes silent.


End file.
